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Ethnicity

  • In its colored Ink, chalk, and voice box, it echoes
    The names that runs after fathers and sons
    Stinging the muscular and vulgar tongue
    Noticed at the rear of identification
  • Drumming hard, it forces my willing mind into palpitating
    Unconsciously my neck swivel and bend
    It forbids my legs at a standstill, but move
    I dance to the true Africa samba
  • Picking the best of all colorful wrappers, cowries, shrines and its endowment
    Whistling and braying sure we know not but heyday
    The vixen roast, the ram smells good, the wine is natural
    The plebeians’ lives in love waggishly forgetting sorrows
  • written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

    Sea in storm

    Cheers to my head shaped nation
    Lying on the bed of roses…
    In Lugard’s unification.
    Three tribes wry for the best
    That was; slavery annexation,
    Your fathers and mothers must have smiled.

    Cheer-up, the worst is yet to come
    Not for long, snow skins had to go
    Hearts sees what brain know not
    Green and white Eagles flip flopped a storm
    Men are what their mother made them…
    But, what was her goal?

    Drink on, I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes.
    Eagles meant celebrating with the storm.
    Tribune must have turned, issuing tribulation.
    East now tweets “why not serve in stand and wait”
    West had issues with same power.
    Hold a man down, you have to stay down.

    Drink for that he has is better than ours
    South south wealth and loses
    North masked no joke grenades
    Religion and crises,
    Boko Haram is to them what perfume is to flowers.
    My headshaped nation has a sea in a storm.

    (C) 2012
    The-True-Poesy

    written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

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